


Snippits of Space Travel

by MissTeaVee



Series: Mimicry [5]
Category: Among Us (Video Game)
Genre: Background characters WILL be named after random crayon colors, Gen, Life with an Impostor is complicated sometimes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:14:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27620531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissTeaVee/pseuds/MissTeaVee
Summary: This is here to just be a random collection of ideas I had in the "It's science if you write it down" verse. Rating will vary per chapter. Some will be funny and irreverent, some will be more serious, some will be naughty, some won't.These are unbeta'd and unpolished snippits, written to get a mental image out of my head.
Series: Mimicry [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2000221
Comments: 454
Kudos: 243





	1. Sass

**Five days out from MIRA interstellar waystation** **_Sentinel:_ ** **_  
_ ** Timing: Approx 1 month since a truce was reached between Crew and Impostor.

Note: There was an attempt at writing physics in the vacuum.

* * *

“Hey Pink! You’ve been to Sentinel Station before, right?”

“... Yeah, we limped in when the  _ Exploradora’s _ reactor died,” Pink answers from where he was lingering to talk with Yellow. Orange winces.

“Sorry, dude, Didn’t mean to bring up the memory.”

“The reactor died? Non-catastrophically?” Cyan muses from where he’s seated at the table nearest one of the vents. He’s got a little vacuum bot disassembled in front of him, and has been trying to clear the little thing’s rotating brush for the better part of an hour now. “That’s… lucky…”

“The reactor core went full meltdown, but we managed to eject it,” Pink sighs. “Ran for the forward sections and luckily the explosion didn’t depressurize the whole ship. So we all survived.”

Cyan looks down at the little robot he’s working on. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah well, believe it or not, that wasn’t one of your folks’ work, or if it was, there was no evidence,” Pink says. Yellow folds her arms uncomfortably, but follows Pink and sits at the same table as Orange. Cyan looks up, tilting his head curiously, but doesn’t say anything.

Orange suspects the Impostor wants to ask more, but also wishes to be polite. He has the same problem a lot. So stated, his relationship with Pink is a lot better than Cyan’s, so-

“How did you get to the station?”

“The ship was still in motion,” Pink answers. “We still had communications and were luckily on a close trajectory, but no more acceleration from the engines powering, so it took so long to get there. Luckily the supply shuttles could track us and dock, but it was rough, you had to suit up like you were going to space walk to go to Supplies to unload them. Walking in a full spacesuit on a gravity-enabled ship sucks.”

“Are you unlucky or lucky?” Cyan asks slowly. Pink’s head snaps around to look at the Impostor. “You experienced this, but you survived. Twice you’ve had my people try to kill you and survived. Has your life always been like this?”

“I liked you better when you minded your own business,” Pink retorts, but there’s no real venom in it. He has a weird relationship with the Impostor, Orange thinks. He uses rude words when talking to Cyan, but always keeps a respectful distance, and Cyan is incredibly direct but polite in return. Pink’s never raised his hands or voice at the Impostor, but he can’t quite hide his mistrust either.

“Pink,” Yellow says, tone only mildly reproachful.

Cyan looks back down at his repair job. “Were you pointed right at the station? I suppose they must’ve scrambled another ship to slow you down so there wouldn’t be a crash.”

“No, we were off by about three hundred kilometres,” Pink says. “They sent two ships to redirect us and slow us down. Basically a slow ramming and we just had to sit in comms and hope it all went well.”

“That’s impressive,” says Yellow. “What was the cause?”

“Ugh, swiss cheese,” Pink grumps. Cyan turns his head to look at Orange instead.

“I don’t understand. Did someone put food in the reactor?”

“Oh, Swiss cheese is jargon for several different safety protocols or procedures all somehow failing in the right way to lead up to disaster,” Orange explains. “Look up up the swiss cheese model.”

“Hm!” Cyan pulls out his PDA and becomes engrossed in it. Orange smiles to himself, empathizing with the need to understand.

“So, is it okay to ask what all failed?” Yellow asks. “I mean it melted down but you managed to eject the reactor?”

Pink sighs. “I’d rather not go into it. We all lived though, and got a rather extended vacation on Sentinel Station while they repaired the ship and decided whether or not to send us home or have us carry on the mission.”

“That’s brutal,” says Orange.

“As long as our reactor won’t do the same…” Yellow muses. Pink shakes his head.

“No, it won’t… They updated the fleet’s engines after that. There were… five things? I think, that all lined up to let that meltdown happen.”

“Well… As long as our trip remains incident-free,” Yellow muses.

“Pff-hah! Yeah, incident free my a-”

“Pink.”

“Just saying, Cap, we definitely had an incident.”

“Is Incident my name now?” Cyan asks from across the room. Orange lets out a snort of surprised laughter at the unexpected humor. Usually the Impostor tries to avoid attention.

Pink sighs, putting his head down on top of his folded arms. Yellow chuckles, patting Pink’s back.

“If you want it to be, I suppose,” she says to the Impostor with good humor.

“I like Cyan, it’s a nice sounding word,” Cyan answers.

“Right,” Yellow says. “Good. I just mean, free of incidents that caused damage or harm. I think considering there’s peace on the ship and we’re all alive and healthy, that we resolved everything alright.”

“I like being alive and having food,” Cyan interjects. Yellow and Orange chuckle, Pink sighs, still resting his head on his arms. “And hope.”

Pink grunts.

“I’m glad that it’s going well,” Yellow says. “I still feel a bit like I faked my way into this Captain position, but at least we’re all making it work.”

“Eh, we’re all faking it in some capacity,” Orange shrugs. “I fake being happy to be awake in the mornings!”

That earns him chuckles, and he smugly lifts his cup up to drink through the straw.

“How do you fake your way to a Captain job?” Cyan asks. “No really, that’d be good to know.”

“Oh my god,” Pink grumbles into the table.

“You have your secrets, I have mine,” Yellow responds, putting her hands on her hips. Orange shakes his head, amused at the byplay. Cyan’s slowly revealed himself to be rather sassy at times, and Yellow seems to get the brunt of it, so she’s taken to returning fire.

“Fine,” Cyan says, unwinding a tangle of hair from his project’s rotating brush. “You know, there’s a term in your language for feeling like you tricked everyone into letting you have the job you do…”

“Ah, is there?” Yellow asks, surprised.

“Yeah,” Cyan says without looking up, humor warming his tone. “They call it Impostor Syndrome.”

Orange manages to suppress his surprised chuckle as he looks up to see Yellow staring at Cyan across the room. Pink’s still face-down on the table but his shoulders are trembling suspiciously.

“Alright,” Yellow groans. “That’s it, someone go prep the airlock.”

“Fucking finally,” Pink mutters into the table.


	2. Welcome to Sentinel Station(PT1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahaha, fuck it, I’m going to try and explain my weird headcanon for the naming system these walking crayon people have.
> 
> Nobody dies, but it's a near miss.

“Administration… Station Administration… ugh…” This map is completely off, Yellow is going to throttle whomstever was in charge of sending her crew the information packet on Sentinel Station. She swears that she’s passed this intersection three times now. _Do they have an identical potted plant at each intersection? Augh! Okay, lets try turning left this time, it’s not what the map says but the map is Not. Helping._

Oh hey, she is going a new direction! There’s people this way! Three of them, a shade of grey, a shade somewhere between yellow and green, and, hey, a yellow almost identical to herself! Neat. She walks up the trio, stopping just outside of arm’s reach.

“Hi, I’m lost.”

“Oof, sorry to hear that,” says the grey. “Let me guess, the map’s wrong.”

“Yes,” she sighs. “I’m trying to get to Administration.”

“Yeah, the restructured the station a while ago to make it more uhh… open concept, to reduce the risk of Impostor attack,” says the yellow-green. “And never actually updated the map. We’re working on it.”

“Ah,” Yellow sighs.

“Hey you’re the Captain of that new ship that pulled in, right?” asks the other yellow.

“Yeah, Yel- sorry, Maize,’ she laughs, rubbing the back of her head. “Man, after a month and a half of being the only yellow around, I’m getting bad habits.”

“Hah!” Says the other yellow, waving his hand. “Hey, they always seem to spread you ship crews around like that so there’s no close shades. Every crew that comes through is the exact same.”

“Honestly it’s just easier to call you what you’re used to by now,” says grey in amusement. “I’m Charcoal, that’s Chartreuse and Flaxen.”

“Hah, last time a ship came in, like three of them were the exact same shades as people working on-station!” Flaxen adds to Yellow’s amusement. “So honestly it’s just easier to go on base color for you crews passing through than calling ya’ll by your perfect shades.”

“That’s fair,” she says. “I feel better knowing it’s common. Better than the Military where they yelled at you by hex code.”

“Oh. God,” Chartreuse crosses herself. “I can’t imagine.”

Yellow shrugs. “Do you mind giving directions?”

“I can do you better than that,” says Charcoal. “I’m supposed to head up that way to check on the readouts in O2, it’s right past Administration, so I can point you in the right direction.”

“Oh thank you,” Yellow says, relieved. Charcoal gives his two friends a little wave as he steps away, indicating that Yellow join him. “Is this a quiet section of the station?”

“No actually, it’s odd no one’s come by for a bit,” Charcoal says, glancing over his shoulder once, waving his right hand away from his hip in an idle gesture.

She happily turns to follow him, and completely misses the way Chartreuse and Flaxen watch her, then glance at each other. Flaxen chuckles, the sound flanged as if he has two voice boxes.

Chartreuse inspects her fingertips, claws briefly flexing free of the last three digits. “Nice day, huh?”

* * *

“Are you sure the redesign was meant to be open concept?” Yellow muses, following Charcoal through a narrow corridor. He pauses, glancing back at her.

“Eh, well, any hallways they couldn’t widen they put in cameras,” he points upwards to indicate one. Yellow ‘hmms’ at that, but continues to follow him. They come around a corner and Charcoal pauses, shoulders lifting slightly, before carrying on. Yellow looks ahead and spots two people down the hall in a small lounge, then brightens to recognize two of her own, though she’d have never expected to see Pink and Cyan in such close proximity. But so they are, Cyan leaned over the back of Pink’s chair, clearly reading over Pink’s shoulder. “Oh, there’s two of mine!”

“Hmmm,” says Charcoal, heading into the lounge. He nods at them both, and Yellow thinks there might be a moment’s hesitation as he gazes at Cyan, but no… there’s no way there’s anything about Cyan that this station crewman could detect as odd. “Hello!”

“Howdy chief,” says Pink, scrolling through his PDA. Cyan lifts his head, looking at Yellow, then Charcoal.

“Hey Cyan,” Yellow says. “You wanted to talk to a friend here, didn’t you? Did you find them?”

“Oh, yes,” Cyan says. Yellow nods, pleased to hear it. They hadn’t known for sure if there were Impostors here, but Cyan had promised to track any down and talk to them about what was going on. The Impostor leans turns his head and glances over his shoulder where the hall continues past this little gather area. Yellow notes Escape pods in the wall to the right. Cyan looks back. “There’s at least one more to talk to.”

“Maybe I can help you find them,” offers Charcoal guilelessly, pausing as Yellow walks past him to stand on the other side of the little coffee table from Pink. “I’ve been here a while.”

Cyan tilts his head slowly. “I bet you could.”

“What’cha doing here, chief?” Pink asks.

“Oh, Charcoal here’s taking me to station Admin,” Yellow states, glancing around at Charcoal, who nods, audibly sucking on his teeth. She turns back just in time to catch Cyan shaking his head and pushing away from the back of the couch. “What are you two up to?”

“Eh, well,” Pink glances up, and Charcoal walks up behind Yellow’s shoulder, probably to make himself part of the conversation. “I’m just… writing up a report and Cyan’s giving me his opinion on it," Then, idly, he adds; "There’s been a lot of people passing through here in the last twenty minutes.”

“Aiming for the station’s reactor or life support, no doubt,” muses Charcoal, turning his head to look down another hall that branches to the left. Yellow nods, about to ask how much maintenance those systems need on a daily basis-

“Stop!” Cyan shouts, making her jump. Something unexpected touches her throat and she starts to turn but Cyan’s over Pink and the couch and lunging for her- no, for Charcoal.

There’s a heavy thump, and both hit the floor, Cyan snarling like the alien he is, legs spread for balance, claws out. _What!?_

Then Yellow sees the claws on Charcoal’s hands, and realizes exactly how lucky she just was.

_He’s an Impostor!_


	3. Welcome to Sentinel Station(PT2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now you get to learn a bit about Impostor naming conventions! Fun! Also, because one Impostor calls another “Low class”, just to be clear, calling someone a class doesn’t refer to their social standing.

Pink’s on his feet before he knows what’s going on, then immediately joining Cyan in jumping on this Charcoal, even as his brain catches up with what’s happening. Cyan just saved Yellow’s fucking  _ life _ from one of his own! There’s shouts from down the hall, people calling out to ask if everything’s okay, what was that noise!? Cyan spits out something in his own language, and Pink sees what looks like his arm splitting open and half of it reaches under Charcoal’s and suddenly there’s a PDA on the floor.

“Lock the doors!” their Impostor snaps. “Quick!”

Yellow snatches up Charcoal’s PDA and hurriedly types on it. Pink glances up in time to see all the doors around them shutting, can just see brightly colored suits turning a corner down one of the halls. Then the deep clunk of the locks engaging, the hiss as they seal airtight.

Charcoal is still spitting what are probably insults, but Pink doesn’t understand it, so he leaves it to Cyan to answer back. He looks up to Yellow, and sees blood. His grip on the hostile slackens for a moment, and he realizes his mistake when Charcoal twists free, visor unhinging-

Cyan punches the other Impostor square in the visor, earning a yelp. “Stop! They are on our side!”

His words catch Charcoal off guard, and Cyan rushes to speak in their own language, hurried and low. Charcoal stares at him, and Cyan lifts off the other Impostor, then looks to Pink. There’s pounding on the doors to life support, muffled voices...

“The doors will open in a minute, we can’t… there’s no vents. Nothing happened, we’re all fine, we-we don’t know why the doors locked.”

Pink wants to protest; this bastard right here just tried killing his Captain and friend! But Charcoal is breathing hard and shaking under him, and dammit all he knows fear and confusion when he sees it. Getting Charcoal busted won’t help the mission SEEEB assigned them; they need the Impostors to listen as much as they need other Humanae to.

He gets up warily, leaving Charcoal to Cyan and goes to check on Yellow, who is standing rigid. “You alright?”

“Fine, just… just fine,” she tells him, taking a deep breath and letting it all out. “I wasn’t expecting that, that’s all.”

“Fuck, we should’ve all been more careful about this,” Pink hisses, stepping closer, he holds up a hand. “Let me look at your neck.”

“My-” Oh… her neck is stinging and it feels damp. She didn’t even notice. Pink leans in, and reflected in his visor she can see the three slashes in the soft cowling that covers her neck, and the skin beneath. They’re all bleeding. Gods above, it happened so fast. “I didn’t even notice.”

“We have maybe a minute to hide that,” Pink grunts. “People will ask questions. It’s nothing serious, though.”

“Here,” says Cyan, handing over a clean black rag. “Tuck it under your cowl and wipe away the blood on your suit. No one will look closely.”

Yellow takes the rag and works quickly. Pink turns to glare at Charcoal who is clenching and unclenching his hands uncertainly, looking ready to flee.

“Chill out, we’re trying to help your people, we’ll cover for you. Just don’t fucking do it again.”

Charcoal hisses softly, but straightens as the doors open. From the Reactor comes four people, and two from the same hall that Yellow and Charcoal did.

“Everyone okay?” asks the station’s chief medical officer. Indigo, Pink recalls. Nice gal.

“Yeah we’re all good,” says Yellow, looking around as if startled by the crowd. Pink’s a little overwhelmed by all these new people himself, after so many months with the same eleven.

“We heard a shout, then loud hissing and then the doors shut and we thought-” says a darker purple.

Shit, okay, they’ve gotta come up with something. “Yeah we-”

“It was the trash chute,” says Cyan, pointing at the one in the wall. “Pink saw it was full and went to eject the garbage, but I saw there was something jamming the inner doors slightly open and tried to stop him in time. When the chute to space opened, it sucked air out and the doors auto-sealed. Lucky for us whatever jammed the inner chute door got sucked out and it snapped shut.”

_ That’s... A very reasonable explanation.  _ Pink nods and rubs the back of his head as if embarrassed. “Yeah… I didn’t notice.”

Yellow drops her head and rubs the back of her neck. “Now I know why the rule books are so severe about always testing the inner door mechanisms to all garbage airlocks before venting trash.”

“Yeah… no kidding,” says Indigo. “I’m glad you’re all alright. We thought…”

“I was sure we were gonna find a body or two!” exclaims a darker pink.  _ Jazzberry _ , Pink thinks.  _ He was here back when the Exploradora limped in. Long-haul spacer, good for him. _

“Do you have Impostor problems here?” Yellow asks with believable shock. “We haven’t even been thinking about that since we hit two weeks without any incidents.”

“Well… it’s been a while since anything happened,” pipes up Emerald, another long-stay spacer Pink remembers from his last visit.  _ Wait, if Emerald’s here that means that bitch Ochre probably is too… ugh. _ “But there is a rule about traveling in pairs or more for a reason.”

“Oh, well, that is why Charcoal was so kind to offer to lead me to Administration,” says Yellow, and Pink is going to throttle her if she lets Charcoal take her anyplace now, even if the Impostor has to know how stupid it’d be to try anything after all this attention. “He informed me of the Pairs rule, but I thought it was just careful protocols.”

“We came aboard to see old friends,” Pink adds, gesturing to himself and Cyan. He inclines his head to Jazzberry, who nods back. “Cyan started catching up with one of his so I waited around for my turn.”

“Oh! You have friends on station?” asks a voice, and Pink turns to see the two who came from the same direction as Yellow and That Other Impostor. “Oh! Cyan.”

“Chartreuse! Flaxen!” Cyan lifts a hand to wave. “Good to see you!”

“You’ll have to explain what happened here,” says Flaxen. Pink thinks his tone is almost threatening. Then it hits him what it could mean that Cyan knows those people and he focuses on keeping his shoulders from tensing. Then Flaxen clears his throat and speaks more evenly. “Make a report, and all that.”

“Oh yes, I have no problems doing that,” Cyan says. “Actually, uh, Pink, do you mind if I split up from you while there’s people around? I’d love to spend some time catching up with these two! We trained together.”

_ Did you? _ “Yeah, no problem. I’ll just follow you, Cap,” He turns to Yellow. “If you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” Yellow says, inclining her head. If she caught the implication of Cyan’s oblique conversation, she gives no mention of it. Instead, she looks around at the crowd. “Thank you all for coming to check.”

“Hey no problem,” says Jazzberry. “Tan should be in Administration right now, so it won’t take you long.”

“Thank you.”

* * *

Cyan’s back hits the wall, and Chartreuse snarls in his face, tentacles whipping past her visor.

_ “Many-Greenshades! Calm down!”  _ yelps Flaxen in their native tongue, the two parts of Chartreuse’s real name said simultaneously. _ “Let them talk!” _

_ “Explain yourself,” _ Chartreuse hisses in Cyan’s face, her harpoon on display to show just how pissed she is.  _ “Traitor.” _

_ “I betrayed no one,” _ Cyan snaps back, and instead of trying to struggle free or lash out with tentacles like Chartreuse expects, he tucks up his legs, putting her off balance, then slams his toes into her gut forcing her to stumble back. He lands on the floor and rolls, bracing in combat posture.  _ “And if you’d waited, you’d know I already talked to Legion-Prism, and there’s a meeting today when the Invaders are busy!” _

_ “You exposed Troop-Shadows! The Invaders will space them!” _

_ “They will not! Did you not see them lying on Troop-Shadows’ behalf!”  _ Cyan growls.  _ “This crew, these people, MIRA company lies to them, tells them we are parasites infecting their own. They did not know, but when I told them, they were horrified. They want to help!” _

Chartreuse moves to lunge at Cyan again, but Flaxen grips her arms, holding her back. She hisses menacingly.

_ “Many-Greenshades, the cameras will revert to normal soon, we can’t be standing under them when they do or it’ll seem like we just appeared.” _

_ “Oh, you do do things properly here, don’t you?”  _ Cyan comments, pleased, despite it all. He can’t blame his old friend for being furious, but, damnit, he thought there was more time to explain before something like this happened.  _ “Crechemate, they know nothing, they think we kill by claw or hands alone. They are horrified by what their leaders are doing. I can prove it, I can prove that my crew wants to help. They say there are others, I’ve spoken to one. I’m not asking you to stop the Mission, simply suggesting other ways of enhancing it!” _

_ “Fine!” _ Chartreuse hisses, staring at Cyan.  _ “But if you don’t explain well, Myriad-Spectra, I will kill you myself, and Plurality-Rainbow will not stop me.” _

Flaxen nods once, still holding Chartreuse’s arm until they come to a vent the three can quickly escape through.

* * *

The meeting with the station administrator goes well. Fantastic. Wonderful. Charcoal is praised for taking personal responsibility for the safety of arriving crews that don’t know the local hazards. He thanks Tan for the kind words, but as soon as he, Yellow, and Pink step out of the Administrator’s office, the Impostor looks at them, then vanishes down a vent.

Yellow almost says something about that, but catches herself. Now’s not the time. Instead, she squeezes Pink’s shoulder. “Let’s get back to the Skeld.”

“Yeah.”

* * *

Arriving is a relief. Pink steers Yellow forcibly to medbay, and is relieved to find White and Purple in. Yellow pulls free of his grasp, but heads straight for a bunk, sitting down and letting out a shaky sigh.

“Oooh, there’s the adrenaline comedown.”

“What happened?” asks White, immediately concerned. Yellow pulls off her helmet and starts on her cowl, then winces. “Yellow?”

“Ow, I think the cloth Cyan gave me is stuck to the scratches,” she says.

“Scratches?” Purple asks.

“An Impostor tried to kill her,” Pink says. “Cyan got in the way in time.”

“Oh jeez,” says White, coming to see. “How bad is the wound?”

“Not very, but it’s on my neck,” Yellow says. “He got me with his claws.”

“Where’s Cyan?” Purple asks.

“He went off with two other Impostors, not the one what attacked Yellow, he actually took us to station admin,” Pink says.

“Uhh… before or after the attack?”

“After,” Yellow grunts. “Whatever Cyan said to him must’ve been convincing.”

“I hope it’s as convincing to those others,” White muses. “I’ve been wondering what his own people will think of him for changing his mission parameters.”

“... if their military’s anything like ours, he’s absolutely fucked,” Pink realizes.

* * *

_ This is fine. Absolutely fine. _ Myriad-Spectra, or Cyan as the Humanae know them, isn’t trembling their fin membranes to shake off nervous heat. Nope. 

Luckily, they had managed to catch a couple of the others before the attack happened. Legion-Prism and Centuria-Blueshades have heard his story, and he introduced Centuria-Blueshades to Red, in the guise of asking Red to help  _ him _ explain ‘the Impostor thing’, to see how the crew would actually do it. They know how sincere the crew is being.

(Red didn’t really appreciate the subterfuge when he realized that this “Navy” was an Impostor, but understood why it happened like that.)

But this? This is bad. There’s no way they could have let Yellow die though, not like that. They made the right choice, but there will be consequences, and they hope the others will listen.

_ “They lied for me, I tried to slit their throat and they lied that I helped them,” _ Troop-Shadows says, still disbelieving.

_ “It’s a trap, they can’t be reasoned with!” _ snarls Many-Greenshades. Here, in the shadows the Impostors have claimed for their own, Many-Greenshades has unfurled from the guise of Chartreuse, and their tentacles are flared high, fin-membranes full and cycling through the shades they can turn.  _ “They’re child-killers, the lot of them!” _

_ “Enough, let Myriad-Spectra talk,” _ snaps Legion-Prism.  _ “I have heard their story and seen their evidence and found it good, you can bear to listen as well.” _

_ “You damned Low Classes can shut up! If you won’t kill, you should be back home spawning so your good genes go somewhere useful!” _

_ “Hey now!”  _ Squawks the cause of all this conflict, completely hurt.  _ “That’s not fair. You know it’s not fair.” _

_ “Many-Greenshades!” _ Snarls Centuria-Blueshades.  _ “That’s so out of line, how can you even say that!?” _

Realizing they’ve crossed the line, Many-Greenshades deflates slightly, but remains furious. There’s a little over a dozen Impostors total, though most have been silently watching the confrontation. Now that the tension has eased, they move, stretching out over the floor, leaning on one another companionably.

_ “Please, Crechemate,”  _ Myriad-Spectra pleads to Many-Greenshades.  _ “I know why you hate them. But if this means that one crew will not search for a nursery, and will encourage others of their kind to do the same, isn’t that a victory? Or at least… the start of one?” _

Finally, Many-Greenshades moves to sit beside Plurality-Rainbow. They cross their arms, snarling under their breath, but at least the one who uses the name Cyan can tell their tale.

* * *

* * *

“I can’t believe you kept composure through that whole meeting,” Purple says. “While bleeding.”

“Honed talent,” Yellow replies, feeling the bandages White taped over her scratches. “Will these scar?”

“Possibly,” White answers. “They’ll look very distinguishing.”

“Gods, I just… didn’t even realize,” Yellow shakes her head. “I walked up to the three of them, why didn’t they just kill me there in that hallway?”

“Shit, I’ve dealt with Impostors before and it didn’t ping…” Pink sighs. “We’re too used to Cyan, and well, we know he’s one of them, so of course we’ll spot another one! Well, guess we can’t spot another one.”

“It turned out alright,” Purple says, handing Pink a cup of tea. Yellow, still unhelmeted in medbay, accepts her own and drinks it straight down. “Ah, would you like another”

“Yes please, maybe something to help with a panic attack? Thanks?”

“Ah, bite this.”

Yellow obeys, then gags. “Oh disgusting!”

“Yes, Iodine tends to get that reaction,” Purple says with humor. “How’s the panic attack?”

“Fuck you.”

“Hah!” Pink says, pointing at Yellow. “You  _ can _ swear!”

“I was an army brat, I can curse you right outta the airlock, Cherryblossom,” Yellow retorts. She sighs. “What time is it?”

“Going on station time? Midday, the schedule we’ve been running on? Almost bedtime,” says Purple.

“Cool, I’m going to go to bed,” says Yellow. “Wake me up if there’s an emergency.”

“You’re staying here,” White says mildly. “Sleep in the bunk. We should stick together until-”

There’s a soft rapping in the doorway and everyone looks up to see Cyan.

“Oh, hey,” says White.

“Charcoal wants to apologize to you,” the Impostor informs Yellow. “I said you might not want to see him.”

“I’m going to sleep,” Yellow replies, pulling on her helmet and collapsing into the medical bunk. “Adrenaline crash and all.”

“Fair, I’ll tell him to ask later.”

“You went off with two others, they were Impostors too, weren’t they?” Pink asks. Cyan folds his arms across his chest, seemingly uncomfortable. “What did you tell them?”

“Same thing I told the others I’d spoken too. All of my kind on the station know what going on now, so that shouldn’t… it shouldn’t happen again,” he says. “Apparently it’s been procedure for a while to go for ranking members of crews that come through and isolate them so there’s time to dispose of evidence.”

“Shit, smart,” Pink grunts. He hates everything. Yellow throws and arm over her visor. “Speaking of, quick thinking, coming up with that trash compactor story.”

“Heh, thanks.”

“Are you alright?” White asks Cyan. He looks at her and tilts his head. “Did you get in trouble for that?”

“There… well,” Cyan squirms in place a little. “Charcoal’s understanding, and he hasn’t been airlocked so… they listened. But they don’t necessarily believe that most of you don’t know what’s going on.”

“That’s a shame, I can understand why, though.”

“No, see, there’s a couple scientists and Administration on station who know they’re Invaders, and what they’re doing to our children,” Cyan says, lifting his PDA. “And one of the other Impostors gave me a recording to prove it.”

Silence. Pink feels bile rise in his throat to think that there really are people who know they’re experimenting on the bodies of children, and are fine with it.

White lets out a noise that Pink would call a hiss if it came from Cyan. “... So, I’ll call up Cerulean, then.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To clarify with Impostor names, since they have two voiceboxes, the two words of their names are said simultaneously. 
> 
> There's a lot more that could be said about Sentinel Station, but that would be a whole novel in it's own.


	4. Hunting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one takes place a lot later than probably anything else will. Only a couple weeks out from Polus. Everyone’s about as comfortable with each other as they’re gonna get. Small wild animals are hunted and killed for food in this one. 
> 
> Cyan expresses affection the same way a cat does, sometimes.

“I think this is more entertaining than exploring the surface will be,” Comments Lime with a snicker.

“Shhh, be nice,” chides Black, but they’re snickering too. The cause of their amusement is struggling to get into a pressure suit so he can leave the ship and explore a small planetoid they’ve come across with several other crew members. Scanners say the atmosphere should be breathable to them, but in this case, Yellow is very much in favor of following MIRA protocols.

“We don’t know if there’s anything in the atmosphere that could be dangerous that our probes can’t detect, AND we don’t want to possibly contaminate the planetoid with our own bacteria, so if you want to come, Cyan, put on the suit!”

Apparently, no matter how well an Impostor can LOOK like a humana-in-a-suit, it all falls apart the instant they try pulling on more gear above it. It’s a little pathetic, watching him struggling to move around in the overboots and leggings he’s fighting to get into.

“Well, now we know how to spot Impostors, anyway,” Pink drawls from where he’s leaned up at the entryway to the shuttle. He’s not coming with them, but he wandered by and saw the show in progress and couldn’t resist hanging out. “Just have a depressurization drill.”

Cyan makes a rude noise at the lot of them, and tries to take a step, but his leg seems to flop uselessly. This time Lime winces, that looked painful.

“Did that just twist your ankle?”

“Why is it so heavy?” Cyan complains, struggling.

“Here, let me see what it’s catching on,” White offers, stepping over. “Oh, the toe of your boot is folded in half backwards-”

With White’s help, Cyan finally manages to pull the suit up, and the rest of it goes a lot more smoothly. The Impostor mutters under his breath in his own weird language, no doubt spewing insults.

“Dude have you ever put pants on in your life?” Black giggles. Cyan shoots them a Look before accepting the oxygen tank Yellow hands him and settling it into place.

“Clothes are oppressive,” he’s distinctly heard to mutter, but at least he’s sealed up and they can run Decontamination and head out.

* * *

He wanders around, watching with amusement as White stops to investigate every little puddle, every discoloration of the rock. Black and Yellow are inspecting rocks, using scanners to check their composition, or doing some kind of depth soundings. White though, is looking for life.

“It’s odd,” White mutters at a puddle. “This planetoid is really too small to have attracted the atmosphere it has. I think it must be a piece thrown off a larger planet or moon that had a viable atmosphere, and it’s just holding on to what came with it… what do you think Purple?”

“Perhaps, but it reforming into a spherical shape seems peculiar,” he muses. “Though, there is certainly plenty of sign of geological upheaval, based on what Yellow and Black are talking about…”

“We’ll have to see, what do you think, Cyan?”

There’s no answer, and both scientists lift their heads, looking for the Impostor. While there’s a general open comm they can hit to get everyone’s attention if need be, they’re presently working at speaker-distance, taking advantage of the Atmosphere. Cyan was with them up until a couple minutes ago.

They can just see him maybe a hundred yards away, standing very still in a half crouched position. Suddenly, he seems to trip without ever moving, and falls over. White makes a concerned noise and heads in that direction. Purple follows, wondering what happened.

Cyan scrambles to his feet and bounces forward before they get to him, swift in the low gravity. Finally Purple spots something moving across the ground ahead of the Impostor, and exclaims in interest.

“Look at that! An animal!”

“Oh!” White lets out a little squeal of excitement. The little whatever-it-is darts under her legs and disappears into a crack in the rocks. Luckily, Cyan’s apparently paying attention and stops himself before crashing into White. 

“Oh, hey,” He says. Purple notices what appear to be faint scratches on the inside of the sealed suit’s visor. “I was trying to catch that.”

“I wasn’t expecting to find life that complex!” White exclaims. “What a funny looking little thing!”

“It’s uh,” Cyan turns around, scanning the ground. “It’s from Polus. When I was little, we’d practice our hunting on them.”

“Wait, really?” asks both scientists in surprise. “How’d it get here?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, then… this must be a chunk of Polus,” White muses. “The planet experienced a massive cataclysm some time ago, didn’t it?”

“Mmmyeah,” Cyan says reluctantly. Then he perks up. “Does that mean I can unseal this suit?”

//No,// comes Yellow’s voice over the comms. She must be monitering everyone. //Absolutely not. This has still evolved separately from you for some time.//

“... if I catch a pik, can I eat it back on the ship, then?”

There’s a long pause and then a sigh from Yellow. //You know what, sure. Why not?//

Purple chuckles at that, but suddenly White’s on a mission.

“What did you call that thing? A pik? Are they a primary food source?”

“They’re small and bony,” Cyan muses. “But they’re harmless and good practice for little ones. They’re pretty tasty, but small.”

He pauses, then makes a throat-clearing sound. “I forgot this is a different helmet and I tried to harpoon through it…”

Purple can’t help the bark of laughter that escapes. Well that would explain Cyan falling over, anyway.

“Maybe we can catch a few,” White muses. “Or more. I’d be curious to examine them. They might be evolving very differently from the piks you’re used too.”

“They can’t have changed that much in five generations,” Cyan mutters.

“Wait- five?” White starts, But Cyan is walking away and kneeling to investigate a large crack in the rock. White hurries to catch up. “Cyan, what is a generation as a measurement of time?”

Purple walks after them, wanting to hear the answer almost as badly.

“A generation is… how long it takes a newborn hatchling to grow to adulthood,” Cyan says, reaching into the rock, then huffing. He looks around then rummages in his kit bag, pulling out a roll of stiff wire. He straightens four feet of it, then pokes it into the crevice. “Timekeeping is… tricky on Polus.”

“How many years is that?” White asks. Cyan pauses, considering it a long moment.

“I don’t know in your years. Ask me again later and we’ll do the math together.”

“Okay,” White says.

There’s a squeaking from inside the crevice and Cyan leans over, shaking his improvised tool. Suddenly a pik pops out of the little cave and scrambles up the rock. Cyan slams his palm over it, but barely manages to catch its tail. The pik squeals, turning around to bite at the hand holding it, but the pressurized gloves are more than a match for the tiny thing. Cyan drops his tool and grasps the little creature more securely.

“Here,” he says, turning to White. “They breed asexually pretty constantly, so wherever you keep it, make sure it can’t get out unless you want them all over the Skeld.”

“Noted,” she says, taking it. The little thing looks like some kind of snake, except it has odd flipper legs. Purple opens a large specimen container and holds it out to White so she can deposit the life form within. Then White stands up, opening the commlink to Yellow again. “Hey Captain, Cyan just informed me a local creature here is native to Polus and known for reproducing prolifically. We’d best do a purge decontamination before re-docking with the Skeld.”

//Noted,// Yellow answers. //So this is definitely a piece of Polus that was flung out to space then?//

“Yeah,” Cyan says. “Can I take off the suit?”

//No.//

The comm clicks and Cyan sighs dramatically, turning back to his little crevice. White chuckles, looking at the weird little animal the Impostor caught for her. There’s more squeaking from withing the hole, and Cyan lets out a triumphant noise, catching another pik. Purple nods to White, interested in seeing how many Cyan’s planning to capture. Enough for a meal, he suspects.

The physicist goes to look around some more, watching White branch off towards a puddle of standing water and dip in a pipet. It’s goot to explore new terrain, and interesting to think what they might learn.

* * *

The Purge Decontamination is a procedure that first cycles all air from every nook and cranny of the ship out, leaving them in a vaccum for ten minutes. White has her live specimens in a sealed O2 environment for this, and she checks on them anxiously, not wanting to cause anything, even what’s apparently the Polus version of a rat, to suffer. She managed to catch two more piks on her own, and is already musing about whether or not she can create a suitable micro-habitat to study them in. If not, she’ll have to decide what the more humane thing to do is. Though…

She glances at Cyan, who is turning over the body of one of the piks he caught. He has maybe a half dozen, all dead, in his own satchel. He used an emergency knife to kill them cleanly, but Yellow told him they must be scanned to ensure there’s no toxins before he can eat them. White’s planning to take quick references of all of them before they're eaten, but her mind is primarily focused on her living specimens and what she out to do with them.

* * *

Back on ship, everyone is treated to the show of Cyan struggling free of the gear. He informs Yellow with dignity if she tries making him wear that on Polus, it’s going to mysteriously break. She laughs at him, but asks if he’s worried about inadvertently carrying something back to his people. Cyan only shrugs.

“Well, we’ve had enough aliens on Polus already that haven’t cared what they leave behind, I don’t think anything from you will do any worse.”

That’s… hmm. For some reason, Yellow doesn’t think he means Humanae this time.

* * *

It takes three bites for an Impostor to eat an entire pik. Also, weirdly, pik tastes like buttered fish. Yes, Cyan offered to let them try a couple, and yes, some of them did decide to try cooking and eating it. Red’s working away on the tail of a pik, and he figures he got lucky with what portion he was given, considering Green’s commentary about all the rib bones. Cyan just crunched right through two of the piks without hesitation. The first one was raw, the second was cooked. Apparently they taste different but equally good, cooked or raw, and the ‘roughage’ from eating the bones and organs is good for him.

Red will… stick to cooked. So stated, if pik are really that common, he’s not against eating it again. He looks to see how White, sitting across from him, is making out, and can see her methodically using a fork to separate meat from bone. “Is it fat that makes it taste buttery, you think?”

“Perhaps,” she muses. “They never prepared me for this eventuality in university, but it is interesting.”

“Well, I mean, if Impostors can eat meats from our animals with no problem, do you think we’ll get sick from this?”

“If I thought it was a serious concern, I wouldn't have approved the meal as an experiment,” White answers. “Though I think we should stick to blander food for a couple days after this so our stomachs can adjust.”

He sees her fork disappear behind the partition with a little meat on it. “You make it sound like we’ll be eating a lot of this.”

“Well, it occurred to me that Cyan might bring back other animals when we’re on Polus,” she says with a chuckle. “He likes giving little gifts, after all.”

“No wonder Royal likes him so much,” Red snickers, referring to the felide companion pet aboard. “They’re very similar.”

“Red!” White laughs.

* * *

In medbay, locked in it’s specimen container, the first pik that Cyan caught explores the large crate it’s in. It presses against every crack, but there’s no air flow, so it looses interest. There’s Light coming from a small hole up above, and it doesn’t like light very much, but there’s also fresh air, so it cautiously pokes its snout up.

While it can just barely reach the hole, it can’t get through it, so it disregards that. There’s a dish of clean water and a bowl of algae-filled water that Cyan told White the pik will feed from. Quite content with it’s secure space, the pik both eats and drinks its fill, then curls up in a corner to rest, feeling some contractions coming on. Within the hour, it has two offspring that instinctively seek out the algae-water for food. Their parent allows the feeding, because it doesn’t mind its own kind, but when it tries to feed and they get in the way, it hisses and chases them off.

Newborn and blind, the infant piks can sense airflow, but not light, and they can slither up the smooth wall of the crate to investigate. They find a tiny hole. First one, then the other squirms free. They squirm across the counter, seeking more food and a tight place to curl, but before they can go to far, they’re both snatched up by tentacles.

“Tch, I did warn her,” Cyan comments to himself, holding the little things securely. Well, a snack is a snack.


	5. Polus Approach

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this could actually be the opener to ANOTHER big story I have in my head. I'm... trying to focus on my other projects, but we know how well that tends to work for me.
> 
> So if someday you see these exact words gracing another fic, don't be surprised.
> 
> This takes place like, several months from 'present' in any of the other fics. Space travel takes a while, even when we're handwaving the laws of physics.

Logically, they all know they’re supposed to start orbiting Polus today. They’re supposed to start Orbital Insertion Procedures sometime after 0500, so Yellow’s done a complete overhaul of the ship’s schedule so that everyone in crew will be rested and alert for all that needs doing. Then it’ll be a boring couple days of orbiting with the engines off while the Skeld’s belly is pointed at the nearest star, absorbing heat to warm and soften the ship’s ablative coating in preparation of entering the atmosphere. Spaceflight is risky in many stages, but landing is easily one of the most dangerous things they have to do.

Somehow though, when the Skeld’s automated alert system loudly comes to life at 0458, every single person aboard her jumps.

//ATTENTION, PLANETARY APPROACH UNDERWAY. ALL HANDS TO YOUR STATIONS. ORBITAL INSERTION PROCEDURES MUST COMMENCE IN. THREE. ZERO. MINUTES.//

“Augh,” Blue complains. “Does it have to sound so unhappy?”

“It’s fine, all good,” says Red, heading for a cafeteria window and opening the shutter to look out. “Oh wow, would you look at that…”

For a moment, everyone gathers at the windows, looking out. For all but Pink, this is their first time actually seeing Polus, and it’s shocking to actually see a planet with a huge chunk taken out of it like that. The deep rolling core is exposed in the lower hemisphere, a jagged, horrific wound that looks like it should be dripping… somewhere, but the molten core is so solid, so dense, that it holds together despite the ugly wound to the world. Polus is shades of greys, blues and purples, presently indistinct, but the closer they approach, the more they will no doubt see. Right now, a person can hold up their hand and hide Polus entirely from view. Once they’re in orbit, it will fill the windows almost entirely.

“Look at all that damage!” Orange exclaims. “That’s incredible!”

“I can’t believe that’s stable!” Yellow muses. “Or that there’s still native life hanging on there. Say what you will about anything from Polus, they’re tough.”

She pauses, looking at Cyan, who is pressed up against the window, staring at his homeworld. He seems to be trying to get as close as possible.

“Wait until we get closer,” Pink says, “It’s insane to see when you realize the only water on the surface is either vaporized as cloud in the atmosphere or on the ground as snow. The Liquid state doesn’t seem to have anywhere where it can exist. It’s all extremes.”

“So I’ve heard…” hums Black.

“What even did that!?” questions Brown. “Massive impact from a rogue planet or moon hitting it?”

“Orbital bombardment,” says Cyan lowly, pushing away from the window. He’s halfway across the space, heading for the hall towards Engines when what he said finally sinks in for a couple people.

“Orbital bombard- Wait, Cyan! Someone did  _ that _ one purpose!?” Purple exclaims, customary stoic nature evaporating under that bombshell.

“Yeah.” Answers the Impostor before he steps into the hall. The door shuts itself behind him, and by the time it reopens, he’s out of sight.

“... Well,” Yellow says grimly. “We can ask about that later. Everyone to your stations. We’ve got a lot of work to do before we can sit around and twiddle our thumbs while the ship warms for atmospheric entry.”


	6. That First Heat was Confusing for Everyone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this would take place about… three weeks after the end of “It has been [Redacted] days since our last incident." I did say this snippits series would likely be out of chronological order.
> 
> We’re upping the rating on this one to Mature. Red was the one to find Cyan when Cyan had his first heat and he tried to help, but he was really unprepared for it, so here he is going to get White. Descriptions of alien genitals from a very confused and concerned man. Red’s reasonably sure Cyan’s sick.
> 
> Again, feel free to say hi to me on twitter. I'm @TVheartsrobots there, and sometimes I post previews of my fics there.

When Red hurries down the hall, he’s so focused on not looking suspicious that he actually manages to trip and land on his visor right outside security. Which means he can hear Lime laughing at him through the open door, the jerk.

“I’m fine! Thanks!” He says, pushing to his feet and continuing for medbay. Oh… did he leave some of the uh… slick… _stuff…_ on his gloves over the floor? Hmm… well he can worry about that later. Actually, he hopes Lime slips in it.

 _Okay that’s petty. Anyway- Medbay! Oh thank god!_ He hurries in and uses his knee to hit the close button for privacy once he sees White’s in. “Hey uh-”

“Hi Red, what’s wrong?” White asks, looking up from where she’s sterilizing tools.

“What, ah, is that on your gloves?” Adds Purple, and Red mentally kicks himself for not noticing the other man. He’s sure Cyan would prefer that… whatever’s going on stays as private as possible. Also the less people Red has to explain the fact that he basically just gave an alien a handjob, the better. Probably.

“Yeah, so, I found Cyan!” Red says. “He’s in electrical and he’s uhh… he says he’s not sick but he’s definitely not great either.”

“Oh! I’ll go see what I can do,” White says, sounding concerned, but Red holds up his hands.

“Listen, I’m not sure what caused it, but it’s like… agh… I mean, he really does NOT look-”

“I’ll go see,” White says.

Well, best just spit it out then. “His dick’s hanging out and there are teeth so don’t freak out because he’s already freaking out.”

“What.” In the future, Red will cherish the memory of utter confusion in both White and Purple’s voices.

“He was kinda lurking in the back and acting weird as I was talking to him and tryna convince him to come here, and he started shaking. He sounded like he was hurting and sort of… fell to his knees and I thought he was injured or something cause I see this bright red… uh… gash and this big… thing fall out, but apparently that’s just his dick but he’s got like no control of it.”

Silence.

“Also why the hell is his dick three feet long” Red adds, not expecting an answer, but needing to get that out there. “Oh! Also, apparently he isn’t wearing an envirosuit, that’s just his skin. It just does that.”

Purple clears his throat. “So, what’s on your gloves is…”

“I went to try and pick him up when he went down and he made that hissing noise he does when he’s scared, but I managed to calm him down. I thought his guts were falling out, then I realized what it was but… it’s like he’s in agony and he’s not making a lot of sense. He’s having a hard time talking about what’s going on, he just kept saying “it’s fine, it’s okay, leave me alone it’ll stop,” except he’s totally, completely, in pain,” Red spreads his hands and looks down at himself. There is Alien - uh - _juice_ over his gloves, a little smeared over his thighs, but honestly he’s not really worried about that; something's clearly wrong with poor Cyan. A dick slip shouldn’t be profoundly painful, right?

“I’ll go look,” White says, gathering up a kit. “I don’t… I have no idea what you’re talking about. Are you even sure that whatever you’re talking about was genitals?”

“Well it was wrapped around my arm and I was like “What is this? And he said it’s “For putting babies in” so,” Red goes to rub the back of his helmet, then remember his slick gloves. “Sounds like a dick to me.”

“Go wash your hands before you get that on everything,” White says calmly. Red looks and sounds so confused and upset. Whatever’s up with Cyan sounds distressing to the Impostor, and Red’s clearly worried about his friend. She’ll have to go take a look, but she needs to stay calm and professional in this kind of situation. Panic won't help anything.

“He… uh…” Red clears his throat. “He said ‘this shouldn’t happen. Not right now like this.’”

“Hmm, that is concerning,” White muses. What does she even bring!? She eyes the shiny coating Red has over his gloves and thighs. Maybe a few towels. “Anything else?”

“He uh… I got him to relax for a bit and he almost climbed me?” Red says awkwardly. It takes White a moment to pick up on the euphemism. “It’s like… did you ever have an unfixed tomcat as a pet? Sorta like that, except instead of fun, it looks agonizing.”

“Right… I’ll see what I can do,” White double checks that her gloves are sealed to the rest of her suit and then goes to sanitize them. “I don’t think there will be much, but I’ll take a look. Maybe one of you can go tell Yellow to mark Electrical as off limits because Cyan’s not feeling well and hiding in there so it’s best to give him space?”

“Sure,” Red says, obviously relieved that someone else is taking charge of the situation.

“He was acting slightly odd the past few days,” Purple muses. “This morning Yellow had to beat on his door to get him to wake up. It’s possible he hasn’t been feeling well for a while and he simply can’t hide it anymore.”

That’s sobering to think about, but probably not incorrect. The peace that Yellow negotiated between Crew and Impostor is tenuous, and Cyan might hang out near a few of them, but it’s always with an escape route. If he’s really vulnerable now, whatever’s wrong is likely only being worsened by anxiety.

_Whatever happens, be kind and non-threatening. You did it before, you can do it again._

“Oh!” Red exclaims from the sink. “The lights are out in there. I think he pulled a few wires or something. That’s why I found him; I went to try and fix it. So uh… make sure your helmet headlamp’s working.”

“Noted,” White says, gathering up a few clean towels and heading out.


	7. Watcher

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for discussion of dissection of alien babies. The chapter kind of cuts off, but I got the majority out. Lore stuff, a scene I've been thinking about.
> 
> A special shoutout to Bunyanya125 here, and Vixenbambii on twitter, who ended up in an Among Us Game with me. It was fun playing with you! (I announce on Twitter when I’m playing and Post up my server code! It gets deleted when I’m done, so if you ever poke in on @TvHeartsRobots and see a code, come join me!)

“Hey Magenta, got a bit?”

The voice makes Sentinel Station’s chief Xenobiologist look up from her desk and brighten. “Blanca! Hi, come on in, I haven’t seen you in years!”

“Whaat, you’re actually going to call me by my real name?” White puts her hand over her chest dramatically. “After I’ve stopped being dramatic about it?”

Magenta laughs, shaking her head. “How were we best friends again?”

“Spite?” White suggests, dropping into a spare seat. They’d grown up in the same neighborhood, and been childhood best friends. Back then, if you dared call her anything other than ‘Blanca,’ She’d scold you for it.

_“Yes I’m white, but so are my mom and dad! It’s just CONFUSING! I’m BLANCA! Stop calling my parents Mister and Missus White too!”_

_“I think you care more than your parents do, Blanche.”_

_“BLANCA. Blanche is my dad!”_

_“Jeez okayyyy.”_

Magenta chuckles at the memory. “So when did you finally give in and accept social convention?”

“When I was one of two Blancas in my college friends’ group and my crush called me _The_ White,” White answers, tilting her head to indicate a grin. Magenta laughs at that.

“Ahh, of course, we do change for those we love.”

White - Blanca - shakes her head. “Ugh.”

“So, White, or Blanca?” Magenta asks to clarify.

“Whichever, at this point I’ve been the only White in my circles for a while. Anyone else with a close shade has been relegated to a grey when we’re compared,” White answers ruefully. Magenta chuckles at that. Children tend to share their faces carelessly, and Magenta recalls all too well being impressed by her friend’s irises. Perfect and pure white, even paler than her sclera. Most Whites are actually the faintest of greys, but not her friend.

“White it is then, because my inner child is still a demon,” Magenta teases, earning the snicker she was hoping for. “So, are you here to catch up, or talk work?”

“Can’t it be both?” White asks playfully. “Actually I was hoping to use your gene sequencer. The Skeld’s DNA analysis system is useful, but not as complex as what you have here or what I’ll be able to set up once I’m on Polus.”

“Oh sure,” says Magenta, looking back down at her work. “I’m just trying to understand genetic drift in Polus lifeform X223. It’s… hmm… It makes absolutely no sense.”

“Oh,” White stops on her way to the analysis computer. “Ah… The… cave worms we’re being… _heavily encouraged_ to harvest en masse. Yes.”

“Yeah those,” Magenta shakes her head, exasperated. “They have some awful genes, I don’t know why the brass thinks we need to collect these things.”

White doesn’t immediately answer, so Magenta turns back to her sequences. White clears her throat, and speaks hesitantly. “So what’s… why does the genetic drift make no sense? Why are they awful?”

“Well, firstly, most of them display a certain level of genetic similarity. Enough that you might assume they reproduce asexually, plus, you know, isolated populations each in their own steam caverns, right?”

“Sure, yeah.”

“But then you look and see that in some, that there are individuals, that share fifty percent of their DNA, so, siblings from sexual reproduction. Though, I’ve only managed to find a few cases of perfect siblings,” Magenta leans on her hand, wishing she could massage her headache. “I mean, there are just so many of these things that have been sampled from, so going over the records is a pain in the ass, but I started noticing a trend so I’ve been looking closer. THEN I realized, sometimes, you get individuals in one cavern that are more closely related to individuals in a cavern that’s not even connected than they are to other individuals from their same cavern! It’s like…”

“It’s like someone’s moving them from one cave to the next,” White suggests. Magenta nods, looking up at her friend, and sees White leaning on the computer console, head down. The screen is still locked, White hasn’t started using it.

“Yeah! Exactly that!” Magenta says. “But still. There’s enough genetic similarity, signs of inbreeding in most of the gene samples. Like, even in the furthest, most separated caverns, these worms have second or third cousins on the other end of the planet!? It’s wild. It’s like they experienced a genetic bottleneck, but somehow the population exploded and spread right back out again.”

“Right, okay, so…” White says, taking in a big breath. She just… learned a whole lot that Cyan hasn’t talked about. But the genetic patterns Magenta is talking about make sense if you start thinking that there would be people moving around, having children in one place then maybe relocating. Polus has suffered some environmental disaster at some point, that is known due to the damage done to the planet, so an evolutionary bottleneck and resultant inbreeding isn’t a shock, but then the species bouncing back quickly… well, they’re intelligent, they can plan and think. Cyan laid eight eggs during his heat, and though he didn’t say how regularly he might have a heat, it might be reasonably often, in which case Impostors can breed quickly if they wanted to.

It is a relief to know for sure that Magenta isn’t one of the people who knows the truth about Impostors. The idea that an old friend could knowingly be participating in genocide has been haunting White the last few days, and now that she knows Magenta’s not one of _them_ , she needs to decide what to say. What can she say?

“Well… I emailed HQ to ask why they wanted so many of these… life forms,” White says as lightly as she can. “Apparently they have… great potential in biomedical advancement due to the stem cells they hold.”

“Mmm, I don’t know if I buy that…” Magenta muses. White takes a deep breath, about to ask Magenta to close the door to the lab and seal it, but movement has her lifting her head and looking around. Oh, someone she doesn’t know, a deep green. Magenta waves in delight. “Oh! Hey Olive.”

“Hi Magenta! Sorry I took so long, I got waylaid into helping with re-sorting Storage room four.”

“It’s alright. White, this is Olive, they’re my top assistant in here when they’re not fixing the mess everyone else made. Olive, this is White, we were childhood besties.”

“Oh!” Olive offers their hand to White. “I’ve heard so very much about you, it’s lovely to finally meet you.”

“Only good things, I hope,” White says, accepting the handshake. Damnit, how can she talk to Magenta about Impostors now, not knowing anything about this Olive.

“Aww, I haven’t talked that much about her,” Magenta laughs awkwardly.

“Psh. Yes you have,” Olive chuckles, releasing White’s hand and nodding. They absently rotate their wrist and then turn for the sample computer. “Is anyone using this right now?”

“White was going to,” Magenta says, and White realizes she’s been so preoccupied with the conversation that she hasn’t run the analysis she wanted to do on the odd goo-stuff she discovered on an asteroid they sent a probe to. “I think I distracted her though.”

White chuckles, clearing her throat. “A little, it’s nice to catch up.”

“Oh yeah, you were talking about stem cells or something, weren’t you?” Olive comments, stepping away from the computer and pulling out their PDA to play with. How rude, White thinks.

“Yeah, Polus Life form X223,” Magenta sighs. White sees Olive tense ever-so-slightly and swallows uneasily. Then Olive tilts their PDA towards White as if showing it to her, but all they have up is a map of the station. “Sorry, Olive, you’ve heard it all before.”

“Ooooh yes I have,” Olive chuckles, looking to White. “All this musing about wasting time and resources trying to kill off cave worms for no reason. I tell her, there’s a reason for everything, we just don’t _know_ it.”

“Yeah well, I haven’t seen you come up with a logical explanation for the worm obsession!” Magenta grunts. “How about you help me sort all these gene sequences? I feel like location is a good start. Pity they don’t record the location within these steam caves. Maybe it’s a case of gene activation…”

“Sure,” Says Olive, tucking away their PDA. The door to the lab hisses and snaps shut, making White jump.

She looks at the door. Then she looks at Olive.

_Oh. Okay._

Magenta’s standing up the instant the door seals itself. Her arms tense, her heart’sin her throat, she looks at her two friends, then the door again. Okay, breathe. She knows White. She Knows Olive. No need to get Jumpy. There’s no parasites here… White’s been on an isolated ship for months and they’ve had no incidents. Olive hasn’t had any weird changes of routine or personality. It’s good, it’s fine.

“Can we override that open?”

“I’ll check,” says Olive, moving to the door. White watches a moment, then shakes her head, turning back to Magenta.

“You know, the medbay doors on the Skeld kept doing that for a while the first couple weeks into our trip. Our poor Pink nearly had an aneurysm over it.”

“Yeah? How’d you fix it?” Magenta asks, heart rate easing. Olive mutters at the door.

“The techs ended up taking the whole wall apart,” White says with a shrug. “Magenta… listen. So. I did my own research into those cave worms and-”

“Really?” Magenta asks with interest. “You haven’t even seen samples of them yet, have you? I have a couple in the freezer if you want to look.”

White’s shoulders… tense? Why is she tense? Probably nervous about the door too. “No, that’s not… it’s not necessary. See, I wondered why on Terra MIRA brass wanted us to effectively kill off these worms, so I did some digging, and happenstance provided me with the answer.”

“Yeah? Really?”

“Yeah, Polus Life form X223 is a perfect match genetically to Impostors, though the telomeres on the… worms, are longer.”

“Oh,” Magenta says, considering that. Then the implication of her friend’s words sinks in. “Wait, how did you get Impostor DNA? Was there an-”

She abruptly stops talking. “No… your ship came in with a full crew…”

It’s not…

“It’s pretty suspicious that we’re supposed to airlock anyone we even suspect is an Impostor,” White says, wrapping her arms around herself. “Not… not capture or kill them for study. It’s almost like someone thinks the less we know, the better.”

“... The worms and Impostors are the same species?” Magenta says quietly, her brain still trying to put together two dots that she’s SURE should be easy to connect, but for some reason it’s not working right. “Then… are the worms what’s infecting people?”

Olive lets out a long, frustrated sigh, turning away from the sealed door. “Or maybe no one’s ever been infected.”

“But then…” Magenta thinks about the weird little worm creatures she’s had under her dissection knife, some little more than small things with four tentacles, one of which took in nutrients. Others had small nubs, that would later yet become more tentacles… but then… Longer Telomeres than Impostors… but otherwise genetic matches...

_No._

No. No no no no! It’s not. _No._

They can’t be…

_I didn’t dissect- they weren’t…_

“Ch-Children?” She whispers.

White swallows, watching her friend break, and she feels awful for being the cause of it. But it had to come out. It has to come out to everyone. She glances at Olive, but the Impostor appears unmoved, arms folded behind their back as Magenta rips off her helmet and stumbles over to the sink. White thinks she’s about to vomit and moves to pat her back, but Magenta just shudders.

“Magenta… Magenta.”

“How… how could we not know?” Magenta gasps. “Oh my god… I didn’t… I didn’t know, they were just frozen samples. I wouldn’t have- I never could-”

“Breathe,” White says. Okay so this is going… well actually. White didn’t exactly take the news well herself and she hasn’t ever seen an Impostor hatchling, so, yeah, let Magenta have her moment now. Albeit, Magenta isn’t being threatened by an Impostor right now, so really, their situations differ.

Olive is still standing, arms folded behind their back, watching. White changes her mental narrative slightly. Magenta isn’t being _overtly_ threatened by an Impostor right now. White’s going to remember to watch for that stillness from now on, knowing now that it’s not purely a Cyan trait. Olive is still enough to be mistaken for a statue, and White knows she’s being regarded. She nods once at the Impostor, then back down to Magenta.

“Okay, breathe with me, in, one two three four, out two three four.”

She manages to get Magenta on a rhythm, then once her friend can breathe without horrible choking noises, she guides Magenta back to her chair and sits her down. “Water?”

“I - I,” Magenta’s gloves are no good for wiping away tears, but she tries anyway. “Yes… I…”

White goes to get a glass from one of the cupboards. There aren’t any, which isn’t surprising, since drinking in the middle of scientific experiments could mean drinking something hazardous to your health. She persists, however, and finds a sterile beaker. Good enough. She fills it with water, and brings it to Magenta, standing in such a way to block her friends’ face from Olive. Whether or not Magenta’s shared her face with Olive before, she doesn’t know the real Olive, and White’s feeling protective.

“... we need to tell everyone,” Magenta say. “They need to know.”

“Some already do,” Olive comments from their spot. “Why do you think there’s all these tactics to keep the rest from discovering the truth?”

“Oh my god,” Magenta puts a hand over her mouth and breaths deep. “God… I just… How are you so calm!?”

Olive tilts their head slightly. “This isn’t news to me.”

“You… you knew and you didn’t tell me!?” Magenta is on her feet, suddenly angry. White grasps her shoulder to keep her from doing something stupid.

“Sit down, you’re in shock,” she says to Magenta, leaning on her. “It’s okay. Breathe deep. Focus on me.”

Olive’s looking at the computer when White turns around. She walks to the Impostor, stopping just outside arm’s reach.

“So, I guess all you heard about me was from _someone else,_ hmm?”

Olive finally moves; shifting their stance slightly, shoulders rolling. “Yes. They have a high opinion of you.”

“Thank you,” White says, turning back to Magenta, who is staring at them, realization dawning on her face.

“Olive you’re… you’re not humana…”

“No, I’m not.”

Magenta leans over her desk, and this time, she does throw up.

“Oh, that’ll be a pain to clean,” Olive sighs. “Forgive my lack of sympathy. It’s hard to muster the urge to comfort someone who I’ve watched dissect children.”

Magenta retches again, and White flinches.

Yeah. Okay. This is going _great._


	8. Fleeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place on Sentinel station, maybe midway through the crew's stay. Just a quiet moment in the observatory, watching the stars. You can fall a little bit in love with a stranger, and then let them go again when the moment's passed.
> 
> Mention of the theory of relativity because I apparently need to complicate everything.  
> This doesn't neccessarily... _fit_ the whole narrative, but the image developed and bloomed and I loved it.

White’s leaned against a window in the Dark Room, watching the stars. What a view. Usually, within a brightly-lit spaceship, you cannot see the wonders of the universe through the window. Space seems like nothing more than inky blackness, interspaced with little dots. But here, in this observation room at the end of a long telescoping walkway/spindle away from the rest of the station, only lit by dim red glowstrips, she can See. It's a dome and floor made of windows, bringing White out into the universe.

It is mesmerizing. The spiral arm of the galaxy is visible out there. The reflected glow of one of the system’s planets, orbiting the same star that Sentinel Station gains its power from through it’s solar arrays.She could sit on this telescoping arm forever.

There’s a comet, it’s tail stretched out, away from the blazing inferno of the star, even so far away. Incredible! What look like sparks flashing some indeterminate distance away; small objects being destroyed by the station’s shields, closer than it seems.

This is why she signed up to go to space. There’s nothing like it. Everything that has happened is made worth it by this quiet moment, regarding the cosmos.

The airlock door at the base of the extended fifty-meter walkway shuts and locks. White looks around, and sees a gently pulsing light that means someone is in the airlock, intending to join her. The airlock is there in case of some object hitting the spindly observation walkway and breaking it off. A risk that White’s willing to take for a little while, if only to see space from this perspective. She turns back to the view, not at all concerned about whomever might be joining her.

The airlock door opens to let out whomever it is in, and she can hear the footsteps approaching. She doesn’t look around, unconcerned with their identity. If it’s another Humana, they’re just here for the view, same as she is. If it’s an Impostor, the group of them on station knows she’s ally to their cause. She leans further into the railing, watching the universe.

“Hullo,” says a voice she doesn’t know. She glances over at it’s owner, unable to see anything but his silhouette, visible only as an absence of stars. She nods once.

“Hi.”

“You’re from the Skeld crew, right?”

“I am,” she answers. “Are you staffed on station or that other ship that was due in today?”

“Station staff,” he answers. “The _Ventura_ hasn’t arrived on station yet. It’s slowed it’s approach because they’d be docking during their midnight shift at their planned arrival time.”

“Oof,” White shakes her head. “Relativity strikes again.”

“Theoretical physics made real. We all hate it,” chuckles her new friend, leaning on the rail out of arm’s reach. “So… looking at the stars?”

“Yeah, they’re incredible.”

“Hah, yeah. Hey, you can see the star Polus orbits from here, and you can see Sol.”

“Really?” White looks over again.

“Yeah, here, I’ll show you, sorry I’ve gotta-”

White lets him step closer, and he leans his head in close to hers before pointing into the blackness. White can barely see his finger pointing.

“Okay, you see those four bright stars in a line?”

“Yeah.”

“So between the two leftmost stars, there’s a dimmer star that seems to be flickering a little.”

“I see it.”

“That’s the Polus system.”

“Wow,” White says, impressed. “How do you know?”

“I help run the telescope. You can swing by the astronomy lab and if they’re not busy they can prove I’m not lying to you by showing you the charts.”

White chuckles. “I believe you.”

She shifts, inadvertently brushing her arm against her new friend’s chest. “Sorry…”

“S’alright. And Sol… you gotta come over here.”

His hand lands lightly on her shoulder, and he gently steers her across the Dark Room to another railing. The view is just as spectacular here.

“Okay, so, you can see that planet reflecting the local star’s light over there, right?”

“Yeah. There’s two, but you mean the bigger one?”

“Yeah, that’s Sentinel body five. So look over the top of it, and there are two bright stars.”

“I see them,” White says with a smile, leaning into her friend to try and see where he’s looking. It seems a little personal, but at the same time, it’s just fine.

“So, focus on the midpoint between them and turn your gaze to the right until you see a bright star.”

“Okay, I think I’m looking at the right one.”

“Okay, so…” He holds up two fingers, just below the star White’s looking at. “Now… just under my fingers, you see that dim star that isn’t flickering too much?”

“Is that Sol?”

“Yeah, it is.”

White shakes her head in awe. Light years across the cosmos, and she’s looking at home. “Wow.”

“Yeah.”

She turns to look at him, but he’s still a barely-there form, visible only as the absence of stars in the darkness. She is more visible, her pale suit reflecting the faint lights of the floor. She chuckles to herself, turning back to the view. “I know it’s risky to be in this observatory for too long, away from the station’s primary shields, but it’s just…”

“Too amazing to look away,” he agrees.

“Yeah.”

He steps away, out of her personal space, and leans up on the railing, looking outwards, same as her. It might be moments, it might be minutes, before he talks again.

“This is what dying feels like, I hope.”

“Hmm?”

“You know, what comes next. Everything bad fades away, leaving you weightless and floating in the endless expanse. Surrounded by beauty you could never tire of.”

White considers that, looking back towards the station, then outwards again. “Maybe it’d be lonely.”

“Well… at least we have each other right now,” he answers.

White lets out a thoughtful little ‘hm’ at that, watching the endless night. She doesn’t even know her friend’s base color, nevermind his shade, and yet, she feels incredibly fond of him right now. She steps a little closer, so their shoulders brush companionably. He turns towards her slightly, but keeps his gaze outwards.

When he quietly informs her that he needs to get back to work, she will tell him to have a good shift and he will walk away. The airlock will close behind him and cycle him back into the main station, leaving White alone with the great expanse and her peaceful thoughts. She’ll never never know who he was, or he her. But that’s okay.

For this long moment, it’s just her, and him, and the universe.


	9. Humor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #yellowisn'tpaidenoughforthisshit

Morning again. Unacceptable. They’re on a spaceship, and ergo, mornings shouldn’t have to be a thing. Unfortunately, however, waking up is a part of getting through your day, so roll out of bed, muttering all the while, is what Yellow does.

 _Mom lied, military college does not turn you into an early riser. It just turns you into someone who fears sleeping in more than they hate waking up_ . She grumbles, too tired to bother with proper etiquette - not like seven months with the same dozen people for company hasn’t broken down social barriers already anyway - and only grabs her helmet to cover her face before heading for the showers, a towel around the rest of her. _If the people who designed these ships wanted us to be more modest, they’d have made it easier to get from our beds to the showers naked._

Putting on your gear, then getting naked for a shower, then putting the same gear on again. Honestly. What genius thinks that’s the way to start your day? Someone who has never had to live it, clearly.

The shower wakes her up a little more, and Yellow even indulges by giving her hair a very thorough soak and cleaning before she steps out of the shower. A quick blast from the hot air blower, and her helmet can come back on without getting soaked inside. Back to the bedroom to suit up.

Feeling moderately more human, she heads for the cafeteria, taking stock of who’s already here. Blue's standing at the window, smoothie in hand. Green, Red, and Orange are sitting around one table, the latter two sipping water while the first has a coffee. Brown and Black are only visible by their lower halves in one of the private conversation meal booths, and there’s Purple, Lime, and Red standing by the storage unit, clearly engrossed in conversation. Yellow heads for the coffee machine. Best be awake by the time everyone’s in so she can get her announcements over with.

Her mug’s filling and she’s leaning on the counter-

_Wait. What._

She turns to look around the room again, scanning more slowly to figure out what her brain pinged as wrong. Blue at the window... Green, Red, and Orange there… Brown and Black… Purple, Lime, and Red… there’s White and Pink wandering in… The coffee machine chimes, and she takes her mug and a straw to sip at while she-

Oh.

_Really, guys?_

She sighs and takes a long draught of her coffee through the straw. _It’s too early for this shit._ “Cyan. Why?”

At her slightly raised voice, both Reds hoot with with laughter, the one sitting at the table leaning on his elbows, shoulders trembling. The other, standing, crosses his one arm over his belly, the other hand slapping his thigh in mirth.

“Oh my god!” exclaims Lime. “Really!? REALLY!? This is what gives people trust issues!”

“Goodness,” White comments, humor warming her voice. “I didn’t even notice.”

“I’ve been standing here for the last five minutes wondering when someone would say something,” Purple chuckles over Red and Cyan’s laughter.

“Oh, _you_ noticed, did you?” huffs Lime indignantly. Purple gives a wry shrug.

“Only when I went to the coffee maker and wondered why Red followed me to the table to sit with those two, then I came back to you with intent to finish the conversation without Red, only for him to still be here.”

“Fukken unbelievable,” Pink mutters, heading straight for the coffee machine. Yellow steps out of his way, looking back and forth between Red and ‘Red,’ trying to figure out which is the real one and which is the Impostor.

“I’m never assigning you two nightshift together again,” she declares once her brain has formulated something to say. At least she wasn't alone in not registering a pair of Reds.

“Oh, don’t say that!” says the one at the table, waving his hands. “We’re just having a little fun.”

Okay well, that’s Red’s actual voice and inflections, so. She turns to look at the standing one, presumably Cyan. “Who’se idea was this, anyway?”

“Mine,” says the standing one, tilting his head to grin. And- fuck; that also sounds exactly like Red. God damn it, Yellow’s not awake enough to muster up either discomfort or amusement at this. “But he thought it was hilarious.”

“Oof course,” she brings her straw back up to her helmet’s induction port and takes a slow pull from it. The two Reds wait in expectant silence, but she refuses to give them satisfaction by asking who is the Humana, and who the Alien. “Well, since everyone’s here, I might as well hand out the daily schedule.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, guesses on which "Red" is the real one. Let's hear em.


End file.
